


Beatrice and Benedick

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [47]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Afternoon Tea, Broken Engagement, Existing Relationship, F/M, Fingering, Makeup Sex, Reconciliation, Vaginal Fingering, intercourse, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-16 23:13:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8121349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Tom and Carmen reunite for real, and not just in their dreams. There is tea and tears.





	

_I'm not just trying to get you back on me_  
_Cause I'm missing more than just your body_  
_Is it too late now to say sorry?_  
_Yeah I know that I let you down_  
_Is it too late to say I'm sorry now?_  
Justin Bieber, “Sorry”

 _O mistress mine, where are you roaming?_  
_O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,_  
_That can sing both high and low:_  
_Trip no further, pretty sweeting;_  
_Journeys end in lovers meeting,_  
_Every wise man's son doth know._  
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, II.iii.739-744

* * *

> _I am currently out of the office travelling on business, returning on Wednesday, September 28. Responses to enquiries sent via email may be delayed._
> 
> _If you require immediate assistance, please contact Emily Vigan at 020 7946 0356._
> 
> _Carmen P. DiGregorio | Vice President, Digital Strategy and Content, PACE UK  
>  _ _13 Paternoster Row, 21st Floor | London, EC4M 7LS, United Kingdom  
>  _ _020 7946 9281_

This was the reply Tom received immediately upon dashing a quick, breezy, email to Carmen: _“Hello. Hope you’re well. Call this week?”_ His message to her work email address was identical to the one he had sent to her personal email address upon waking up in Los Angeles the Monday morning after the Emmys.

But now it was Wednesday evening, and Tom was back in Australia. Getting ready for bed, and not exactly looking forward to yet another night of jet-lagged sleep. It had been a day since he sent the message and its duplicate. But he did not yet receive an answer. Maybe he was too hopeful to expect an answer straightaway, when they had spent months apart. But now that they were talking and texting, dreaming about each other in the most intimate way possible, he was a touch greedy and wholly impatient.

Tom wondered if telling her about his dream, where Carmen (in place of Susanne) was trying to direct him in a love scene before sleeping with him, had been too much. She’d made a sweet joke about it, though, before leaving him with the irresistible image of her wearing a sheer tank top cheekily decorated with “I ❤ T.H.” Supporting him, despite everything, from far away

He wanted to talk to Carmen, ask her if she caught the show. Did she like his tuxedo, and wasn’t she delighted that Susanne had won. He wanted her to be jealous (or at least pretend to be jealous) about Priyanka. Tom wanted to be inundated by a stream of funny, occasionally dirty texts from Carmen about what she was up to. Ask about her promotion at work, the start of her volunteering for an arts organization. Was she planning to travel anywhere in the near future. Things they could talk about more in person when he was able to come home. Not just to London but hopefully to her.

In time, he would ask her to move back to his house. They would re-christen it as their home in their own way — in a word, by fucking on all the horizontal (and a few of the diagonal) surfaces before falling asleep in a heap of blankets under the watchful gaze of her little purple mouse doll. The snowglobe would resume its rightful place on the bookshelf, while the engagement ring would continue to sit in a small blue ring box in Tom’s office, only coming out if and when Carmen wanted it back on her hand. Make it less like two precocious teenagers playing house while the grown-ups were away, and more like what it should have been: two wonderful but imperfect people who could work and compromise and struggle and, most importantly, fight for each other. Accept that there would be hard times. Acknowledge the possibility that it may not succeed before resolving to do anything to avoid failure.

Tom feared that after so many months of missing her, he was beginning to love Carmen in the abstract. Let his guilt and his regret idealize her so much that any real quirk or flaw would weaken his resolve. But if those pangs could be so very real in his mind, then so too could be his affection for her.

In the morning, Tom found a copy of the local newspaper, accompanied by a letter printed on hotel letterhead. It read as follows: 

> _Please accept our apologies for the absence of the international edition of The London Times. We have substituted in its place a copy of The Brisbane Times._

The newspaper carried the usual smattering of local and overseas headlines, focussing more on news from the Gold Coast, Brisbane and the rest of Queensland. He flipped idly past the pieces about community events, local crime, even a piece about the _Thor_ shoot. A headline on the first page of the business section caught his eye. 

> _ASX to host PACE UK at Spotlight Conference: “The Future of Futures — International Commodities Trading In The Post-Brexit Marketplace”_

Remembering that PACE was the exchange where Carmen was employed, he skimmed it. The article was little more than a glorified press release for the conference, with descriptions of various panels and talks followed by the list of notable speakers engaged for the occasion. One of those speakers was one Carmen P. DiGregorio.

Before Tom could pick up his phone and try to call her, she called him instead.

“Hey,” she said, sounding slightly out of breath.

“Funny you should call me,” Tom drawled, feeling pleasantly warm at the sound of her voice. “Is this the internationally renowned public speaker Carmen P. DiGregorio of the Pan-Atlantic Commodities Exchange?”

“Are you making fun of me?” She said with mock irritation.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“I hardly had time myself! Ugh, hold on, I have to… go stand over here. In the corner. Where the reception isn’t complete garbage. Okay! I woke up to, like, both phones, my iPad, _and_ my laptop dinging and beeping with messages, alerts, what have you. Everybody from my boss to the assistants yelling at me to pack and go straight to Heathrow. I wasn’t supposed to go, but somebody’s boss or boss’s boss, on the American side, quit overnight and then everybody freaked.”

“So are you the boss’s boss now? Congratulations, Button.” Tom smiled as he made his way back to his bed and got comfortable.

“No, I’m just somebody’s pawn in the political bullshit that has already begun. These people are children, I tell you. Children!”

“So you’re actually speaking at this conference?”

“Yeah, but it’s not that huge a deal. Just a 30 minute talk about, I don’t know, the proper use of hashtags or whatever when delivering potentially devastating market forecasts via Snapchat or some shit.”

“Snapchat? Really?”

“Well, no, but wouldn’t that be something? Ha! I think a Snapchat lens that makes you look like Theresa May would be hilarious. Anyway, I’m overqualified but the person leading the conference team wanted to block her rival’s pick for the spot. So here I am, stuck in a meeting room with a bunch of old British dudes while we wait to schmooze with a bunch of old Australian dudes.”

Tom smiled to himself. “When does the conference start?”

“Tomorrow. Today’s all meet and greets, tours of various trading desks, exchanging gifts which is just branded swag we couldn’t give away at the last trade show we did. The Australians are taking care of producing all the content, so I just have to look like I’m paying attention.”

“Ah.” Tom couldn’t help but feel excited, nervous energy coursing through his body.

“So, um, I don’t know if this is too soon, but if you have time this afternoon, say around three? Would that be weird? Oh shit, I’m sorry, you’ve got to be crazy busy. And the Emmys OH MY GOD!”

“It’s fine. I can meet today. Today or, erm, tonight would be perfect.” Tom took a deep breath. “Where are you staying?”

“I don’t remember the name, something posh and generic,” said Carmen softly. “I’ll find the address and text you. Tea okay?”

“Perfect,” replied Tom. “Until then.”

“Yeah,” said Carmen. “Until then.”

* * *

Tom tried to fill the day as best he could. He answered a few emails. Went for a run, then took a shower. He visited a coffee shop, then picked at lunch. He nearly got a haircut but his pre-Emmys trim was still fresh. Trying to nap was futile. He made it to 2:00pm before he gave up and wandered to Carmen’s hotel, a mere half mile away.

The hotel could have easily been mistaken for his own, or any other luxury hotel in the world. Tom’s well-worn grey boots made little squeaking sounds as he walked the travertine floors of the lobby, having spotted a lounge area where he could bide his time. Just as he was seated with a cup of green tea, he caught sight of a group of people come through the automatic revolving door.

Trailing a pack of older gentlemen who shuffled slowly out of the door was Carmen. She stopped when they did, smiling politely as they engaged her in conversation. She took their business cards and shoved them in the leather satchel slung across her right shoulder. Just as she turned away to sneeze, she saw Tom staring at her. Even from across the large space, he could see her cheeks flush. But he couldn’t read the expression on her face. Tom looked down at his hands, just for a moment, and when he looked up again, she was walking towards him.

This wasn’t the glass domed library where they had met so many months ago, but the feeling like the two of them were the only people in a huge space full of people felt wonderfully familiar. The din of the guests and hotel staff as they went about their business was replaced by the sound of Tom’s own heartbeat in his ears. She walked at a brisk pace, but Carmen’s approach was still outpaced by his pulse, which seemed to rush the nearer she got. Tom tried to focus on a detail, anything in the room to calm him, but it was no use.

The black cardigan she wore was belted over a prim white blouse that was unbuttoned to a spot just below her throat. Her black wool skirt swung, its pleats folding and unfolding with every step. The black heels were not new but looked well taken care of. And just as she came to a stop a few feet in front of him, Tom couldn’t take his eyes off her lips. They were naked save for a thin layer of clear gloss.

“Hey, Cambridge,” she whispered. “My eyes are up here.”

Tom popped up from his seat, setting down his tea cup with a rattle when he did. As in his dreams, she looked thinner but soft and round still. Her eyes were as dark as ever, but they seemed to be missing their usual sparkle.

“May I… ahem, can I get that?” He looked at her satchel. “That looks heavy.”

“Um, sure, that would be nice,” replied Carmen with a tentative smile. “But maybe, I dunno, we can, shake hands or something?”

“Of course! What am I…” Tom shook his head.

“C’mere,” Carmen said.

She set her bag down just as Tom took her in his arms. When Carmen squeezed him gently, he dared to press his lips to the top of her head.

“Hi Button,” he murmured, shutting eyes.

“Hey,” she answered in a hush. “Is it you? Is it really you?”

“Of course it is.”

“Uh huh.”

“What proof of my identity can I offer?”

“Passport?” Carmen wondered

“That can be forged,” said Tom.

“Fingerprints?”

“Only if you have a scanner on you.”

“Aw, shit,” Carmen said with a laugh. “Left it at home.”

“Inside joke?”

“But you’re shite at telling jokes, Hiddleston.”

“I beg to differ.” Tom rolled his eyes at her when she peered up at him. “Anything else?”

She shook her head.

“I have a suggestion, then,” said Tom.

“What is it?”

“I could kiss you,” Tom said quietly.

“Yeah?” She bit her lip. “That could do.

“It could do?” Tom echoed.

She laughed. “While I am enjoying this tentative flirtation slash meet-cute we’re having here, you didn’t come over here to drink overpriced tea in the middle of a hotel lobby, did you?”

Tom shrugged. “It wasn’t that far a walk. My hotel’s only about a half mile away.”

“That’s not what I meant, jerk,” muttered Carmen.

“The tea wasn’t _that_ expensive,” Tom said thoughtfully.

“Asshole,” she said.

“Brat,” Tom replied, and then he kissed her.

She didn’t kiss him back.

“You’re not kissing me back,” Tom pointed out.

“Tom, is that group of men I came in with still loitering by the revolving door?”

Tom glanced up. “They’re still there, Car.”

“Okay so I’m not going to kiss you back now.”

“I knew it was too much,” Tom said, almost to himself. “The hug, this.”

“No,” said Carmen, shaking her head. “It’s just… we should go somewhere else. Quiet.”

“Your room?” Tom asked hopefully.

“Not _that_ quiet.”

“Well, we could stay here, but…” Tom peeked back at the lounge. “It looks like their tea service is beginning. I reckon it might get busy.”

“I’ll ask for a lonely corner, tucked behind a large potted plant so you don’t have to worry about being bothered. Okay?”

“But…”

“Tom.” Carmen was insistent. “Tea now. Talk now.”

“Fun later?” Tom ventured.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fun?”

“Fun,” said Tom emphatically.

“If by ‘fun’ you mean we put on matching tracksuits and head straight to that amusement park everybody keeps telling me about…”

Tom shook his head. Carmen sighed.

“Okay, fine.” Carmen peered down at her outfit. “I guess I’ll have to go upstairs and change into something more comfortable eventually.”

“That’s right,” Tom grinned. “Lose the dress, keep the heels.”

“Tom!”

“If it’ll make you feel better,” Tom said soberly, “I’ll keep my boots on when I get naked too.”

* * *

 

“Okay, so I’m going to take the prosciutto, tomato, and pesto ones because, well, ham. You should have both the salmons in that case, and we can split the rest evenly. As to the pastries I’m telling you now that the scones are all yours because sultanas are disgusting and I will not abide them.”

Tom had insisted on sitting next to Carmen at the tea table, not opposite her so that his back was to the room. He didn’t bother scanning the room, checking for other guests surreptitiously taking their picture or approaching for a selfie. He sat patiently at her side, nodding at whatever she suggested. The arrival of their order prompted him to sit up.

“Bossy.” Tom unfurled his napkin with a flourish before laying it across his lap. “Shall I feed you as well?”

Carmen scowled at him over her cup of bleu peacock tea. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, darling. Feed you. Flirt with you…”

“Fuck me?” She murmured. “That’s what comes next, right?”

“I was thinking maybe a fight, actually.”

“Really?” Carmen looked alarmed.

“Sure. First you pick the fight, we ‘squabble’ as you like to say, and _then_ we fuck.”

“Oh?” Carmen arched an eyebrow at him.

Tom looked unsure. “You disagree with the proposed course of action?”

“No, it’s just…” She shrugged. “Where do I even begin?”

“Do you mean what do we fight about?” Tom cleared his throat when Carmen nodded. “Good. I have a list.”

“You have a list?” Carmen shook her head. “Of course you do.”

Tom set his cup down, then held out his hands. Carmen hesitated, though just for a moment, before putting down her own cup, then slipping her hands into his. Her eyes fluttered shut when he began to run his thumbs over her knuckles, just like she liked.

“I’m going to tell you a story.” When Carmen nodded, he went on.

“Once upon a time, there was a man. Neither young nor old, he was at a crossroads, or so he thought. The road he had been following was long and occasionally boring, but there were great stops along the way. He wasn’t alone for much of the journey, helped along by the support of his family and his friends. Less often than he would have liked, there were companions who warmed his bed and occasionally stole his heart.

“On a day as cold as cold could be, the man met a woman. Where he was cool, she burned hot. He was detached while she was immersed in everyone and everything. They thought they were just having fun.” Tom shook his head. “But they were wrong.

“Lovers from the start, their hearts caught up with their maddeningly compatible bodies soon after. Their bliss was palpable. They were happy. Until the man was rejoined on his journey by his old friend, Doubt.

“Doubt had been with the man since boyhood. Sometimes keeping him out of trouble, but more often than not it kept the man safe. Too safe. Doubt wasn’t so sure of love. Love didn’t always last, Doubt was careful to remind him. Just look at your parents.

“Doubt’s unwitting accomplice was the ever present Distance. Love tried to keep them at bay, but it wasn’t enough. Doubt and Distance, in the guise of Pragmatism and Practicality, were too strong for love alone. Love needed Confidence, Faith, and Trust. The woman had these in abundance, and shared as much as she could. But how could she compete with Doubt and its longevity? Was her love strong enough to overcome Distance?

“They could have, if the man had been honest. If he had shared with her all of his feelings of doubt, his loss of confidence, his awe in the face of distance. If he could only own up to the strength of his own ambitions. But he didn’t. As a boy, he had become accustomed to putting on a brave face. He could slip that mask on again, and play the part until he felt better about himself. Until he found herself back in the woman’s arms. Until he returned to being the man she deserved.

“The thing about wearing a mask for so long, and in such trying times, is that you lose yourself. And when you lose yourself, you run the risk of being found by someone else who would be happy to give you the gift of a new identity. Take this role, play this part, and in time you shall be found again. Forget the long journey. Welcome to the shortcut.

“So that’s what he did. After so many weeks of answering to names not his own — Hank, Robert, Jonathan, even Loki — he was Tom again. But this wasn’t the Tom from that cold day. This was a Tom who was entitled to his place in the spotlight, at the top, with the most famous girl in the world. He was worthy of adulation and praise, even if it wasn’t for the hard work and the journey he was on before.

“In time, he was simply another part. An accessory that never quite fit, never looked exactly right. He wasn’t Tom but merely an extension of the girl’s pretenses. His presence was meant to impart an air of maturity and credibility, but her past actions and present motivations were soon exposed. Her mask had fallen, and so too had his.

“He understood the depths of his own desperation, and came to understood that he had been entitled but not deserving. He gained his freedom, with a small parting gift. An accolade he had craved and might have even treasured had it not been smudged by doubt. Did he earn this, or was it simply given because of who the world had believed he was for a few months, when he was known more as somebody’s easily replaceable companion than an actor at a peak in his career?

“The pain he felt, and knew he caused, will haunt him. The forgiveness he hopes to seek will be slow in coming, if it ever does. But he has to start somewhere. He has to start with someone.”

Tom blinked, but did not attempt to wipe away the tears that had been coursing down his cheeks only to fall upon and stain his worn blue shirt. He brought Carmen’s hands to his lips, kissed them.

“I need to start with you.”

Carmen took a deep breath.“Oh Tom…”

“Yes?”

“I love you, but…” Carmen shook her head. “You are so full of shit.”

Tom’s brow furrowed, and his mouth went slack. “What?”

She nodded. “Tom, I love you, but that was garbage.”

“What?!”

“And what’s more is…” She shrugged. “You know it.”

“But what I’m trying to say…” Tom began, stopping when Carmen shook her head.

“Tom, those were beautiful words for what you believe are completely sincere feelings.”

“Were they now?” Tom asked in a tight voice.

“They were,” replied Carmen. “And you know it.”

Tom said nothing, he simply sat and thought to himself, still clutching her hands in his.

“And now you’re feeling bad because you poured your heart out to me, in the hopes of convincing me that what happened this summer was somehow beyond your control. You were at the mercy of a lifetime of feeling unloved, unworthy, and inadequate.”

“Those all mean the same thing, Carmen.”

Carmen’s eyes widened. “Oh?”

“They do.”

“Well.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Duly noted, Cambridge. I’ll spend more time with my thesaurus, then.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what?”

“Why are you being…”

“Stubborn? Obstinate? Mean?” Carmen tilted her head. “I’m sorry, but have we met? Do you know me?”

“Apparently not.” The chill in Tom’s voice was unmistakable.

“Well, let me reintroduce myself.”

Carmen drew herself up, just as the waiter came to check on them. When he saw the dour expression on Tom’s face, and the resolute look in Carmen’s eyes, he withdrew undetected.

“My name is Carmen. Also known to you as Brat and Button. We met, fought almost immediately, then went to town on each other in bed for about twelve hours straight. A month passed, we met again, made up. Became friends. Fell in love.” She took another breath. “It was good. But that wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough…”

“Now wait…” Tom tried to interrupt but stopped when Carmen shook her head.

“I wasn’t enough to keep away those very real feelings of doubt and inadequacy that have plagued you since childhood. The frustration that can come from years of hard work but not with the acclaim that you deserved. No control over how people receive that work or how they choose to see you. My mistake was thinking that loving you, promising to marry you, would be ample compensation.”

“But that was never my intention! When I proposed, I meant it.” Tom leaned forward. “I still do.”

Carmen nodded. “I know you do. And I… if I’m being honest, I feel it, too. It’s just…” She looked up at the ceiling, her eyes wet with tears. “I fucked up. I did something I shouldn’t have.” She looked at Tom again. “I made a huge mistake.”

Tom wiped a few tears from her face with his thumb. “What did you do?”

“I loved you,” replied Carmen quietly. “I loved you in spite of myself.”

“Oh.” Tom looked crestfallen. “I see.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t think you do. I never explained. I don’t think you knew that.”

[ “There was time in Berlin, after we…” ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6061206) Tom bit his lip. “You said that loving me was the hardest thing you’ve ever done.”

“That’s right. Because to do that, and to do it well, I had to be myself. Self-centered. Selfish. A pain in the fucking ass. Be myself, and you could be free to be yourself, no matter how imperfect or unsympathetic that may be.”

When Tom’s shoulders slumped, she reached out and hugged him. “Thank you, Car.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Sporty.” She tapped his chin. “I’m not finished.” Carmen waited for him to nod, then continued.

“I thought I was doing the right thing. Sitting there on the phone, listening to you try to explain how if we could spare a few months, sacrifice the work we had done. Because if we loved each other enough, you could take advantage of that. You could take advantage of me…”

“Oh god, Carmen…” Tom clapped his hand over his mouth.

“You took advantage of me. You hurt me,” Carmen whispered. “And I let you. Because I was too much in love with you, but not enough in love with me, to stop you.”

Tom felt as though his heart had stopped beating, his breath having been taken away by her yet again. Not by an admission of love, but by the simple truth: that in breaking them up, Tom knew she would survive the loss of him and the hurt because she was strong enough to bear it.

“You okay?”

Tom looked incredulous. “Why are you asking _me_ that? It should be me asking you.”

Carmen shrugged. “Maybe. But,” she fingered a few stray curls that had popped free near his right temple, “I’ve had all summer to come to this conclusion. You’ve had, what, a few minutes?”

“So what do we do now?”

“Well, I think I want to go upstairs and splash some water on my face. What about you?” Carmen smiled ruefully.

“I think I need a drink,” admitted Tom.

Carmen looked around the room, raising her hand when she caught the waiter’s attention. “Tea’s on me, but you can buy your own damn whiskey, Hiddleston.”

Tom nodded. “Fair enough.”

* * *

The view from Carmen’s room was not especially picturesque, though Tom spent the few moments after they’d come in staring out the window. Instead of raiding the mini-bar, Tom was going to have a drink once he got back to his own hotel.

The sound of her emerging from the bathroom alerted him to Carmen’s return. He turned around and was greeted by the sight of her engulfed in a hotel bathrobe. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear before meeting his gaze.

“So…” Tom started.

“Yeah,” said Carmen. “Thanks for meeting me, Tom.”

“Thanks for telling me the truth, Car.”

“I owe you that much, at least.”

“It’s more than I deserve,” replied Tom. “Don’t think that I don’t know that.”

“Good.” She nodded, then held out her hand for him to take.

Tom took it, then stepped toward her so he could wrap his free arm around her at the shoulders. He rested his cheek against the top of her head. His nose twitched pleasantly when a few of her curls tickled it.

When Carmen turned her head up towards him to say goodbye, she wasn’t exactly surprised when he caught her face in his hand, running his fingers along her jaw. Lips slightly parted, she did not resist when he began to nibble and then suck on her bottom lip. When she murmured his name, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her warm mouth.

“Oof!” Tom stumbled as he tightened his grasp around her, having taken an awkward step when he did.

Carmen smirked, then laughed. “Nice one, Cambridge. You out of practice?”

“Shuddup,” he moaned before kissing her again.

“Oh? _Oh…_ ” Carmen’s eyes shut when his hands squeezed her ass. “Listen, it wasn’t me who spent the summer dry humping The Human Pool Noodle, so don’t say…”

“I never touched her,” Tom muttered.

“Really?” She snorted. “So those pictures of you scrambling on the rocks in Rhode Island, prancing through Rome, DANCING AT A SELENA GOMEZ CONCERT?! Those weren’t real?”

“Carmen…” Tom growled.

“I knew those were fake,” Carmen hissed. “Just like her shitty implants.”

Nostrils flaring, Tom grabbed her roughly and walked her over to the bed. Not waiting for her to lie back completely, he crawled up her and straddled her at the waist.

“Stop it, Carmen,” he warned.

“Whatever,” Carmen scoffed. “Just because you spent the summer being pawed by a one of those inflatable windsocks you see at car dealerships…”

“Enough!” Tom scooted down, untying her robe and pulling it open as he did so.

Naked before him, Carmen shivered at the feeling of his clothed body as he lay on top her. The friction was too delicious, his cock hard against her thigh as he ground against her. When she tried to touch herself, he nipped at her jaw.

“No. Hands in my hair. Now,” he ordered. When she rested her hands on the nape of his neck, he whispered in her ear: “Good girl.” Tom shifted so his weight was on his side, and not entirely on Carmen. He ran a hand down her body, starting at the  shoulder before stopping at her left breast so he could tease the nipple to stiffness with the rough pad of his thumb. When she whined, he merely chuckled.

Tom brought his hand back up to her jaw, turning her face to his. He felt the warmth in her cheeks as they flushed. He was relentless in the way he kissed her, barely noticing if she was losing her breath. Tom only knew that she was there, lying in his arms, and he would not give her up. His lips pressed to the crook of her neck, Tom reached down and grasped the soft flesh of her inner thigh. He caressed her slowly, waiting until her leg went slack before he touched her sex.

“Ah!” She was wet, soaking, and so the finger he was using to trace along her slit was soon inside her. Gentle was his touch but even so every nerve ending in her body was alight. Her anticipation of where he might kiss her next, touch her next, if and when he would be inside her, filled Carmen with a great tension that only Tom could relieve.

“Pull, my darling,” he whispered. “Pull.” When she tugged on his hair, Tom shuddered but did not let her go. Hand still between her legs, he swiped at her clit with his thumb. Tom looked at her face, making sure that she was comfortable and relaxed. The warmth of satisfaction, of pleasure and desire, filled his body when he saw the pleasure in her face. He kissed her, with maddeningly tender presses of his lips to hers, while his thumb circled her clit faster and faster. Carmen moaned, her eyes fluttering.

“Tom,” she said. “I need you. Inside me.”

“Look at me, love,” he replied. “Please.”

Carmen looked at him, keeping her eyes on his face as he carefully shifted and unbuttoned the fly of his trousers. Reaching down with her left hand, she grasped his hard cock, and together they moaned. Tom went up on his knees, swore under his breath when she took the opportunity to stroke him, then entered her quickly. “Oh fuck…” they moaned in unison.

For two people who had missed each other as much as they had, it was almost painful. How slow and minute were Tom’s movements now that he was inside her, and how quiet were Carmen’s breaths. No detail could be lost, however. Not the sweetness of her breath as she panted, nor the solid, reassuring weight of his body on top of her.

Soon enough, the heat and the wetness of Carmen’s cunt was too good for Tom to simply relax into her embrace. He had to chase it, rolling his hips up and into her, snapping when he hit the spot, just inside, that made her arch her back and dig her nails into his backside. But still she wanted him harder, faster, deeper. Tom stopped suddenly so he could grab her legs and drape them not around his waist but over his arms, which were now planted on the bed on either side of her. He plunged again, and they both cried out in ecstasy.

“Fuck! Fuck! Oh my god, yes! Keep gooooo…” Carmen lost the ability to speak, surrendered to him as he fucked her harder and more deeply than he had before. All she felt, all she knew, was the size and the hardness of his cock. The intense, close gaze of his eyes as he watched her come. And then the vulnerability of his sweet mouth murmuring love and apologies into her ear before he kissed her. When Tom came, not long after she did, he managed to wrap her in his arms again. Holding on for dear life, his release was bittersweet. He still felt undeserving, but was no longer ashamed. Maybe he should have been but she was there. Hugging him and kissing him and tightening around his cock while it was still seated within her. There was no room for his guilt or her anger, not at that moment. Just a peace that settled in both of them that was soothing and good. The reconciliation was far from over, but for the time being, this reunion was more than enough.

Tom groaned in protest when Carmen nudged him, withdrawing so she could run to the bathroom for a quick pee. He followed suit, returning to find her curled up under the covers. Before he could ask, she drew the bedding aside and patted the mattress next to her. He dove in, making her laugh when he pulled her underneath so they could curl up in each other’s arms.

“Car?” Tom whispered.

“Yeah?” She smiled when he kissed her cheek.

“That was nice,” he said.

“It was,” she replied. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Tom gently ran his fingers through her hair. “I love you.”

Carmen smirked. “I know.”

“Brat.”

“Asshole.”

“Nap?”

“Sure.”

“Dinner?”

“Yes.”

“Carmen?”

“Tom?”

“Button?”

“Yes.” Carmen kissed the hollow of his throat. “Always.”


End file.
